


8 Second Ride

by hornsbeforehalos



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Harvelle's Roadhouse, Older Man/Younger Woman, Smut, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 08:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16869295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hornsbeforehalos/pseuds/hornsbeforehalos
Summary: "& She said, 'Hey, boy, do you mind taking me home tonight? I ain't never seen a country boy, with tires on his truck this high.'&& I said, "Well climb on up, but, honey, watch the cup that I'm spitting my dip inside.and hold on tight, cuz it's gonna wilder than any 8 second ride.'"





	8 Second Ride

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters. I just play with them.  
> DO NOT STEAL MY WORK. I WILL FIND YOU.

Walking through the door of Harvelle’s, Ophelia knew that every hunter in the bar’s eyes instantly landed on her. She couldn’t blame them, she knew what she looked like. She knew that the zipper to her leather jacket held up her ample cleavage just perfectly, her ripped black jeans clinging to her curves like they were water against her skin. Her bright green eyes shining against the neon lights plastered all over the establishment, her long, brunette hair flowing teasingly behind her, begging for some old hunter to just come up behind her and give it a tug. She ignored the cat calls and whistles though, only there to have a few shots of whiskey to wind down from the hell of a hunt she just finished up. Damn Wendingos.

   She smiled at Ellen as she approached the bar top, pulling herself up on one of the stools next to the only man in the room who hadn’t turned when he heard the door open.   
  
   "How ya been, Oph? Long time no see.“ Ellen greeted, pouring the huntress a shot of her favorite whiskey.  
  
    Ophelia took it gratefully, downing the first shot before replying with a wink, "Good, Ell, real good. Been all over everywhere, was in town and figured I’d stop by to see my favorite girl though.”   
  
   The quiet, dark haired man next to her in his own leather jacket seemed to chuckle, jerking both Oph’s and Ellen’s attention towards him.  
  
   "Got something to say, John?“ Ellen growled, cocking a haughty eyebrow in his direction.  
  
"No ‘mam,” he mumbled, smirk still playing curiously upon his lips,   
  
“Thought so. Be happy you’re even in this place and keep your trap shut, yeah?”   
  
   "Yes 'mam" he replied back, nodding his head as his smirk widened to a grin at the bartender.   
  
   Ellen drifted away from the two of them, checking on her other patrons and doing her jobly duties. The two strangers sat side by side silently, sipping their whiskeys until the man finally spoke again, “Oph, huh? Weird name.”   
  
   She cocked an eyebrow in his direction, smirk playing on her lips as she brought the last of the amber liquid to her lips, “ S’ Ophelia, but Ellen’s known me since I was knee-high to a grass hopper, so I let her get by with the nickname.”  
  
   "Ophelia,“ He repeated, nodding his head in understanding before turning his face towards her’s, "Yer Jane’s kid, right? Thought I recognized them eyes.”   
  
   Ophelia bristled at the mention of her mother’s name, her death still being the only soft spot in her heart even after all the years it’d been.  
  
“Yeah,” she answered, “God rest her soul.”  
  
   The man, John, as Ellen had called him, nodded his head again and lifted his glass in salutation before motioning Ash to bring another round, “She was a good woman.”   
  
“That she was. You knew her?”  
  
   "Yeah, a little,“ John confirmed, looking down to his now full glass that Ash had just poured him, "Hunted with her a couple times.”  
  
   Ophelia nodded her head, turning in her stool to get a better look at the older hunter. He was handsome, strong jaw and dark eyes that matched his hair. His brown leather jacket smelled of gunpowder and whiskey, her favorite scent, and she couldn’t help the smirk that came to her lips, “You gotta last name, John?”  
  
   John met her eyes as he shifted in his own seat, turning to face her and leaning one arm across the counter top, “Winchester.”  
 _  
Winchester. John fucking Winchester._ _  
_  
Of course she’d heard about the legendary John Fucking Winchester. He was known in the community as one of the best, most ruthless hunters that ever hunted. She knew of the tale of his two boys around her age who hunted too, their mother, his wife, being murdered when the youngest was just a baby by something 'unexplained,’ she had even put the pieces together that the same thing that killed their mother was probably the same thing that killed her’s over her baby brother, but she never let anyone else know about that.  
  
   Breaking the gaze she didn’t know she’d been holding with John, she cleared her throat and maneuvered back around to face the mirror behind the bar and take another sip from her glass.  
  
   "You alone or 'ryou waitin’ on someone?“ John questioned, faux innocence thick in his drawl as he lifted his own glass towards his lips with a smirk.  
  
   Another quirky eyebrow in his direction was thrown by her as she sat her glass down and turned her head to him, "As a matter a fact, I’m not,” her eyes gazed down his figure devilishly before she brought her eyes back to his and bit her lip.  
He huffed a breath of a laugh at her boldness before throating the rest of his drink, “'Nother one?”  
  
She smiled, “Of course.”  
  
   The night carried on with the two new found acquaintances, the pretty brunette surprising the older hunter with the way she kept up with him, matching him shot for shot and not even letting him win at pool. Her laugh reminded him of something from a distant time period, a musical sound that sang to a part of him he locked away long ago. He could see the same determination and fire in her eyes that had once blazed in another beautiful huntress he had known before he even knew what a huntress was. He couldn’t keep himself from staring at her as she bent over the pool table and positioned her cue, the curve of her small but very shapely backside at the perfect angle as she readied her shot.  
  
   "LAST CALL FOR ALC-HEE-HOL!“ Ash shouted from his stance on top of the bar, drunkenly gesturing to all the customers to pay their debts. The sudden outburst jarred Ophelia’s concentration and her stick slipped when she shot, successfully sinking the eight-ball into the pocket where the last remaining stripe was supposed to go, costing her the game.  
  
   "Well look at that, I win one after all.” John teased, leaning against the unused pool table holding his own stick, forearm resting across the top of it lazily.  
She rolled her eyes and walked towards him after setting her stick on the table, liquid courage giving her enough oomph to step into his personal space. He smirked down at her as she peered up at him, his drawl thick with something other than amusement,“Yes?”  
  
   "Do you mind takin’ me home tonight?“ She asked sweetly with a darker glint to her mossy irises.   
  
   He chuckled at her but took her hand and led her towards the parking lot, slapping multiple twenties on the counter top and giving Ash a wave when he shouted "Thanks for stopping by, John! Oph! See ya’ll 'round!”  
  
   The cold gust of Nebraska air hit them both in the face as they stepped out of the roadhouse, John throwing his arm around her small shoulder-span as she pulled the zipper up over her bosom to protect her chest. He lead her towards the back of the parking lot, both of their eyes shifting over the car-filled area and the people, the hunters, lingering in the area. Everyone was always on alert, and he met eyes with several other men who watched them make their way towards his truck.  
  
   Ophelia gasped when she realized that the old jacked up GMC she’d been admiring when she first pulled in belonged to the handsome man she’d be going home with ’ _Just my luck’_  she thought to herself with a smirk. 

“Never seen a hunter with tires on his truck this high.”   
  
   "Climb on up,“ He rasped, opening the passenger side door and extending his hand that she ignored as she made her way up the step rails and into the seat on her own.   
  
   As she got situated and buckled her seat belt he entered through the driver’s side, reaching over to the cup holder and tossing the old Dixie brand cup out of the window. She smirked as the familiar smell of wintergreen Copenhagen passed through her nostrils.   
  
   The loud roar of the old Sierra’s revved up engine as it came to life was music to her ears, and she inwardly moaned to herself  as her eyes flickered out the windshield to the hood of the truck.  
  
   "Like that, baby doll?” John rasped lowly, his baritone in harmony with the purr of the motor as he put it in reverse, tires squealing as he pressed the gas, “You ready?”  
  
“Yes” she breathed, excitement filling her chest as her gaze shifted back to him.  
  
   "Good, hold on tight,“ He chuckled before throwing the old 4x4 in drive and burning out of the parking lot, smoke and dust behind them.  
 _  
_ _But he was killed by a man with a switchblade knife_  
For 43 dollars my friend lost his life  
I’d love to spit some beech nut in that dude’s eyes  
And shoot him with my old .45  
'Cause a country boy can survive  
Country folks can survive  
  
   John chuckled at the young woman sitting in his passenger seat, listening to her pretty voice sing with an impressed grin on his face. She caught him glancing at her and smiled herself, slipping herself across the bench and resting one hand on the man’s shoulder, the other snaking it’s way across the seat and onto his thigh.   
  
   John Winchester actually fucking gulped, thrown off for a second by her bold actions, gathering his wits quickly, he glanced away from the windshield to her as he rasped, "What d'you wanna do?”  
  
   She grinned up at him as her finger tips danced across the stretched denim of his jeans, biting her lip playfully before pulling away and leaning back against the passenger side door, her pupils darkening in a sinful way, “Don’t really matter, s'long as I’m with you.”  
  
   A low growl emitted itself from John’s throat, low vibrations strong enough for her to feel in both her eardrums and the wetness starting to gather in her panties. Her chest heaved as she bit her lip again, kicking her boots off into the floorboard and pulled her feet into his lap, soft soles running up and down both his strong thighs, gently massaging the thickening bulge growing there.   
  
   John pulled down the old tobacco road towards the empty field surrounded by trees. He parked the huge truck into the underbrush and turned to meet Ophelia’s lust filled stare, his hands falling from where they’d been white-knuckling the steering wheel onto her pretty little feet as another growl rumbled out past his parted lips.   
  
   Another mischievous grin creeped its way across her face as he pulled her ankle down and brought her closer to him, her thighs draping over his lap now as he bent over her form to bite at the crotch of her jeans. She gasped at the sudden sensation of the zipper being pushed against her swelling clit, and her hands instantly found purchase in John’s thick hair. He crawled his way up her, stopping at the zipper of her jacket to pull it down, revealing the thin tank top that couldn’t conceal her heavy breasts as her chest rose and fell in rapid breaths. His lips sucked and bruised the tender meat as his hips dug into hers until he maneuvered one hand up to pull the shirt down, releasing one of her nipples for his mouth to suck on. His tongue swirled around the hardened nub and his teeth clinked against  the metal piercing the sensitive flesh, earning her another lustful groan and buck of hips from the older man, “Well, that’s pretty.”   
  
   She giggled a bit at his surprise, biting her lip as she peered down to her chest at him devouring her, “you should see what else is pretty.”   
  
   John’s eyebrows rose instantly, a loud bark of a laugh coming from him as he lifted his body off of hers to push upward to her eye level, “I got some blankets in the back, 'smore room.”   
  
   He dipped his head into the side of her face to nip at his ear, earning him a moan from Ophelia’s lips, “Then get off me and let’s go.”  
  
   Sure enough, there were multiple blankets in the toolbox in the bed of the truck, and John laid them out like a pallet after pulling the tailgate down for her to climb into. Ophelia was on him instantly, almost knocking him back as she straddled his lap to yank his jacket and shirt off. He obliged before grabbing the back of her hair and forcing her lips to his, his tongue demanding entrance into her mouth that she swiftly accepted, each of them dancing together for dominance as he yanked her own jacket and tank top off of her delicious body. 

   Once topless, his calloused hands stroked up her rib cage, making her shiver, before grasping the full handfuls of her chest and massaging roughly, pulling on the barbells attached to each nipple. She moaned loud into his mouth, thrusting her hips against him as he bucked into her before sliding in between his legs to work open his jeans. He lifted up slightly so she could pull them off, leaving him in his boxers before he sat up to twist her under him so he could do the same. 

   They pulled off each other’s underwear together, before she forced him back onto his back, positioning herself on top of him, the head of his heavy cock at her entrance. He sat up with her in his lap, his arms curling behind her and fingertips going to the back of her shoulders to push her down onto his thickness with a grunt, instantly filling her as she ground her self into him simultaneously. The high pitched, pornographic sound that escaped her lungs spurred the older man on, pulling her up off him with the thick drag before impaling her on him once more. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as her short nails scratched at his chest. Her first orgasm took her, and him, by complete surprise as the stretch of him overtook her and she erupted around him, clenching and pulling him in deeper. He stilled himself to feel her flutter, growling into her ear as he bit and licked at her neck, marking her as his with each nip. Once she finished contracting her body relaxed and he could feel her open up to him more as he pulled her up slightly to thrust into her again. Ophelia finally came back to herself as she felt him rock into her, her moans and his grunts mixing together in sinful harmony. She pushed him back again and started riding him, his hands falling from her shoulders to her hips as she rotated and ground against him. He let one hand drift to her clit as she bounced, rubbing the sensitive bundle back and forth and finding yet  _another_  barbell there, causing a feral roar to rip his throat as he felt his own release nearing instantly. Soon enough, after enough thrusts he could feel her cumming again, him encouraging her with deep grunts and rasps, “That’s it, baby girl, let Daddy feel it.”  
  
   "Fuck,“ She grunted, eyes rolling back again as she spasmed around him and let herself fall forward.   
  
   He began a punishing upward thrust into her, chasing his own release now that she’d gotten her own. It didn’t take more than a few more minutes and he was right behind her,    
  
   "Pill?” he suddenly questioned, hips stuttering at the better late than never question.  
  
   "Yes.“ She hissed against his neck, biting it gently, "Fuck, I’m gonna cum again.”  
  
   Her words triggered him, his hot wetness spilling into hers and filling her up, leaking out down his balls and thighs to the blanket below him as he continued his barrage into her, his groans and roars sending into her own final spiral of completion before they both finally pulled away from each other to collapse in the bed of the truck.  
  
   "How’s the rodeo?“ John panted, satisfied smirk on his sweaty face as he looked to her.  
  
   She chuckled at him, herself breathless as her sweaty hair clung to her skin, a wide smile grew on her lips when she replied, "Better than any 8 Second ride.” 


End file.
